


Byerly's Dilemna

by Magister_Tekton



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-23 16:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13193646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magister_Tekton/pseuds/Magister_Tekton





	1. Lunch at Vorkosigan Surleau

Byerly Vorruytter, ever the connoisseur of comfort and style, lay-back and admired the view out the aircar window. He might have even enjoyed himself if not for the circumstances and his traveling-companion. Normally an invitation to mid-day tea from Lady Alys Vorpatril would arrive appropriately by comsole sufficiently in-advance for one to dress-accordingly. Being accosted on a public street while leaving the Caravanserai after a long night by persons in a long, black aircar would give most of the ImpSec-trained a heart-attack...or at-least a conscience-attack.  
  
At-least he know the car and the messengers, a pair of Valkyries from MPVK Industries that only the Gods and Kareen Koudelka knew where-from. Ensconced on the cutting-edge luxury of Lord Mark's new aircar, Byerly Vorruyter sourly-reflected on who was more paranoid, Lord Mark or ImpSec these days. Perhaps it was just one-upsmanship between Lord Mark and his brother Miles who had hung-onto that ancient armored Vorkosigan ground-car that must date back to Miles' father's Regency, or even Miles' grandfather the Great General's day. Fast, up-armored and forgoing the usual High Vor tradition of using one's House Colors, the aircar was two shades of blacker-then-black with a dark green real-leather interior and hand-worked hardwood trim, with all the luxury it's Jacksonian manufacturer was famous for. Not that Byerly was complaining, it was a far-improvement over being thrown in the back of an unmarked ImpSec ground-car and bundled off to some unknown location in the middle of the night.  
  
Lord Mark's solution to Lord Vorpoulous' Law allowing only the Counts their twenty Armsmen of hiring only striking-beautiful tall women bodyguards as drivers and personal assistants certainly unsettled some of the Old Vor. Eschewing the usual Barrayan or even the rarer Komarran models, Lord Mark's expensively-imported aircar had certainly caught the attention of certain circles in Vorbarra Sultana. Several of the more-Classically educated Vor-twits had suggested that all Lord Mark needed now was the traditional white Persian cat.  
  
  
_Mid-Day Tea at Vorkosigan Surleau today._  
_Plan on staying overnight._  
_Lord Mark's car is at your disposal._  
_– A. Vorpatril_  
  
  
If it hadn't been in Lady Alys exquisite handwriting Byerly might have refused. Normally communications between them were more discrete, rarely in writing and certainly not on the public street so Byerly was alarmed...yet there were no codewords suggesting an emergency or duress. An appraising raised-eyebrow from the black-clad Amazon name-tagged _Athena_ and the suggestion that they had time for Byerly to change did little to calm him. It suggested that something or _someone_ was awaiting him at the Vorkosigan's summer-villa...and why there? A quick shower, a few things thrown in a discrete overnight bag and a change into more appropriate clothes for a casual country luncheon found Byerly sitting opposite Athena in the rear compartment and her so-far unnamed associate piloting the expensive machine towards the Dendarii foothills and the Long Lake bringing-back memories of the last time Byerly had visited the very heart of the Vorkosigan clan; the Great Count's funeral with his cousin Count Dono, the Imperial Family and half the Counts, Ministers, and High Vor--and High Prole--of the capital in genuinely-mournful attendance. That time they had arrived by ground-car so he'd never really had the opportunity to admire how picturesque the lake and the foothills where, blending into the Dendarii Mountains in the hazy-distance.  
  
While he's known that the great now-ruined castle on the highland above had guarded the old trade-routes through the passes to Districts south beyond the Dendarii Mountains, he's never really appreciated it's rather-gothic aesthetic appeal before. Dono had pointed out how Count Aral and his father the great General had limited development at Vorkosigan Surleau to protect their privacy and to encourage new development and construction in their then-new District City of Hassador out on the plains to the northwest. Vorkosigan Surleau and the surrounding township served the foothills to the south and the few favored by the family with grants of land and business licenses. _Let those who want to curry favor with the family do-so in Hassador,_ was General-Count Piotr's dictum, _...where I don't have to look at them._ Over the years, the major roads and the monorails had quietly bypassed the lakeside village preserving it's rustic charms, though Byerly suspected that all the modern infrastructural-conveniences were discretely incorporated since the Regency.

_____  
Upon landing, his close-mouthed escorts politely-led him up from the landing-pad by the old stables up towards the great lodge. Byerly could hear the Vorkosigan children in the distance and was taken unawares being greeted by Countess Ekaterin in work-clothes wielding a gardening trowel from behind a trimmed hedge.  
  
“Good morning, my Lady,” feeling suddenly over-dressed for the country.  
“Oh, don't mind me, Byerly. Lady Alys is up on the main veranda overlooking the Lake. I hope you're hungry as Ma Kosti is in full-flower this week with everyone here for the week. She likes a challenge.”  
“Everyone, my Lady?” Byerly wasn't sure what that meant.  
“Ladies, please escort our guest to Lady Alys.”  
“Err..., you're not join us at lunch, my Lady?”  
“No, this is entirely Lady Alys' party. I'm just lending the veranda. Besides, I have to join the children for lunch before their blood sugar gets them thinking about raiding Ma Kosti's cookie stash...again.”

Rounding the corner of the veranda, Byerly was greeted by what at best might be called a tableau. Lady Alys in an enormous Peacock chair, the Professora Vorthys sitting to one-side, and Lord Mark looking quite saturnine on other. Only one chair awaited, obviously for Byerly and he was suddenly not-glad for the distinction. Completing the ensemble were two oddly-shaped pieces of old-style luggage...well-kept but obviously old from the still-lingering dust in the joints and seams...propped against the wooden railing of the veranda.  
  
“Byerly. Good, you're here.”  
“My Lady, my lady Professora, my Lord Vorkosigan.” punctuated with a little Byerly-bow.  
“Sit down Byerly, this isn't an inquisition. Though you do have a role in this.” Lady Alys smiled, but Byerly didn't feel any warmth from it.  
“Oh?, my Lady. How may I be of service.”  
“First some lunch and tea, then we'll talk.” At this point Byerly wasn't sure who or what she meant by _we_ , but suspected that he'll probably regret it. A look to the Professora nor Lord Mark gave any clue, and Byerly was too-well trained to press the matter until Lady Alys decided to reveal the topic of discussion.  
  
After a nod from one of Mark's ice-maidens the lodge staff brought out lunch while they watched Countess Ekaterin corralling her children and herded them towards the pavilion above the lawn. Byerly marveled at her insistence on being hands-on, no flock of nannies and minders for the Vorkosigan horde. Byerly's mother was Old Vor and rarely saw her children, though many High Vor were following the new ways of parenting. Byerly was also reminded that Countess Ekaterin was more rural Vor than Old Vor. No nannies for her and her brothers, maybe a cook or housekeeper, but otherwise raised by her parents like “normal people” did.

After a ‘light lunch’ that would have proved done justice to a table of hard-working Dendarii farmers or a Count’s High Table, Byerly noted that neither the Professora nor Lord Mark seemed inclined to part-company with Lady Alys, so Byerly assumed that they must be part of his upcoming briefing in some way...perhaps as deep background? Byerly held little illusion that either didn't know of his ties to ImpSec after Lord Richars' debacle...although not necessarily of Lady Alys' ties to ImpSec. Since Capt. Illyan's retirement and especially after _The Sinking of ImpSec HQ_ Byerly had mostly been reporting to Commodore Duv Galeni directly and discretely since Galeni was now cousin Dono's brother-in-law.  
  
“Byerly, WE have a problem that you might be able to help us with.”  
Byerly heard the _WE_ and had no doubts about who Lady Alys was including. That Lord Mark was included didn't bode well.  
“For lack of a better term, a conspiracy has been slowly building momentum that needs attention, and you have been chosen as stirrup-man to deal with it.” The reference to 'stirrup-man' caught Byerly attention and alarm-bells sounded. That term had last been used by Miles himself when Richars' plot self-imploded in-spite-of Byerly bungled stage-managing...Byerly still cringed when he thought back on that particular critique. _Wait...where was Miles in this?_  
“How may I be of service, my Lady? ...And why me?”  
  
Byerly noted the odd, sudden attention that Lord Mark had on him and the odd luggage-opposite that so-far had no bearing in their discussion over lunch of family, recent events in Vorbarra Sultana, or Lord Mark and Kareen’s recent trip to Escobar. Byerly looked a second-time at the two odd objects slightly-behind Lord Mark against the railing and noticed suddenly that one bore the crest-and-sigil of Lord Mark's grandfather Count Piotr and the other his own forebearer, the fearsome Count Pierre le Sanguinaire.  
  
“A conspiracy, ...well, maybe that's unfair, ...a cabal,” Byerly felt a sudden chill while Lady Alys explained, “has been coalescing withing the highest Vorbarr Sultana circles that We wish to co-opt.”  
“Co-opt my Lady? Not stop?”  
“Co-opt, Byerly. It entails too many High Vor and influential proles; and Gregor, the Professora and I have determined that it would be more useful to the Imperium to let it succeed, with a few helpful encouragements by the Right People.”  
Eyeing Lord Mark, “Err, what does ImpSec think of this?”  
“This is not a matter for ImpSec. We four--at the moment--are the only agents-of-influence. The Professora is involved since Lord Auditor Vorthys was approached, and she has contacts and sources of information uniquely-positioned to help us deal with this.”  
Byerly's Vor-blood ran cold, “They approached a Imperial Auditor?”

 

“At first it seemed harmless,” the Professora explained, “a group of like-minded personages seeking an outlet in their spare time. Not necessarily a Vor-club mind you, several of the leading industrialists were backing this with support from their sons and a few of the junior officers in the Service and the Diplomatic Corps. At first it was just a discussion group that met over drinks, then the computer simulations started. Ideas were floated, more quiet gatherings in pubs, financial commitments quietly-explored, many late-nights over the comsole amidst some mutterings about actually ‘doing something real’. Lately they’ve been scouting the countryside, and that’s what lead them to the Professor. They had reached the point of needing both professional advice and an “in” to certain governmental circles within the District. Since a number of the younger men knew the Professor from the University, they approached him seeking his support. He mentioned it to me and I called Lady Alys.”  
“It winds up that Simon had also been approached,” Lady Alys interjected, “...and suggested that Ivan might be a more receptive audience, and might have few ideas to support their cause. When I heard about that I wasn’t amused, but Ivan needs an outlet now that he and Tej are back in the Capital at loose-ends. And Ivan is the perfect figurehead...”  
  
“...An outlet? It sounds like a revolution.”  
  
“Oh, it’s worse. It’s called golf.”


	2. Winterfair Gifts

The chiming comsole awakened Lord Mark earlier than he wanted..or was it later? The pattern of light and shadow on the wall finally-coalesced into later-afternoon, though being travel and jump-lagged it took a while. As few in Vorbarr Sultana had the comcode for the personal comsole in his bedroom in Vorkosigan House, he'd better answer he figured. It might be the Emperor...or his brother Miles. His mother the Dowager Countess was still on Sergyar, so it couldn't be her vid-calling in real-time, and he had just seen her just a few days ago. ...Drat, it was his formidable aunt, he'd better answer than deal with a message later. And it might be important...

 

“Ah, Mark. I'm glad to catch you before you disappeared into the District somewhere.”

“As happy as I am to see you, Aunt Alys. I'm still recovering from jump-lag and barely social for anything public for a day or two. ...But how may I be of help?”

“Your help is exactly was I was hoping for. After an odd-for-Alys pause, “You've lived on Old Earth. I have a problem that you might be able to help me with, you know the culture and it's history. It's not something I wish to share outside of the family, and certainly not with ImpSec...yet” With an eyebrow-raised, Mark gestured for her to continue. “Something has come-up that requires some off-world cultural perspective.”

 

Thus Mark found himself and Kareen in the dusty storerooms up in the attics of Vorkosigan House. He had recruited Kareen to help as she actually had more experience exploring the vast storerooms in her youth than Mark ever did. She always told stories about her adventures in the attics with her sisters, Miles, Ivan and Elena. For children with rich imaginations the 'stuff' accumulated by the family and it's retainers was infinite in possibilities.

 

“Are you sure you saw them here, and not down at Vorkosigan Surleau? Some of the outbuildings haven't been cleared-out since the General's time.”

“Yes, they're here in the attics...somewhere. I saw them several years ago during the run-up to Gregor and Laisa's wedding while” –hiding from Miles to-do-list– “ rummaging around up here looking for ideas for their wedding present. There's stuff up here going back to Greatgandfather and Xav's day. I thought I might find something from Dorca's time as an inspiration.

“I recognized them from my time in London, though I didn't realize their significance. But they're fairly distinctive once you've seen them elsewhere. There should be two of them, about one and one-half meters in-length, leather cases with odd straps. ...And they were together when I saw them last. Miles drafted me into helping supervise the staff shifting some of the older furniture out to make more room after he and Ekatirin got married. ...Do these people ever throw anything away?”

“Only when it's a crisis. Tante Cordelia never seriously re-modeled or redecorated Vorkosigan House before she and Uncle Aral left for Sergyar the first time. Just the lift-tube when the General was alive and the House shields during the Regency. And the Old General left the place pretty-much as Olivia left it before Yuri. Hence the 'drains'...”

“THAT explains a lot...,” Mark grumbled as he peered behind some traveling cases dating-back a half-century from the look of the labels. “At least Duv talked Father into gathering-up most of the family papers and ledgers and shifting them to the document room in the basement years-ago. Miles said the 'great paper hunt' went on for weeks..they eventually had to add more shelving just to hold all the clutter. It still hasn't been cataloged properly, but Miles put that off for years figuring Father would want to do that in his retirement from Sergyar. ...Missed opportunities.”

“Explain again why we're in a dusty attic rather than enjoying the fine Autumn weather outside?”

“Aunt Alys called yesterday, and it sparked a memory of them being up here. She had no idea they existed in the first-place, and certainly was surprised there were two of them. She said it was important. ...Look behind the spears and pennons.”

“Ewww.”

“Mice?”

“No, must be something given to the General. Ekaterin warned me about odd “gifts” up here in the attic, it's nice to know before finding some. Besides, that cats have access to the attics and no mouse can outsmart the Vorkosigan cats. Certainly no-way up here in the attics. Miles says you can't throw away 'presents', must be something he learned from your grandfather.”

“There are times I wish I had met the old bastard,” Mark muttered. “Miles is a lot more like him than Miles lets-on. He likes to think he's like Father, but there's a LOT of Piotr in him when he's unawares, candid and unguarded.”

“Ahh, I think I found them up onto of this old high-wardrobe. Come take a look, and neither of us can reach them without moving a few chairs and things.”

 

Two weeks later Mark's staff had unpacked, cleaned them up, cataloged the contents and repacked them for delivery to Aunt Alys. Fortunately they were real leather and the stable-grooms from Vorkosigan Surleau had performed their usual magic in revitalizing the leather and patching any decayed stitching. An afternoon at the comsole had reacquainted Mark to their use and purpose, but why were they there? The labels indicated they had been handmade on Old Earth over a hundred years ago right before the Cetas invaded Barrayar.

What were a pair of custom-made golf-bags, complete with clubs, balls and all the accessories doing on Barrayar?

 

_____

“I don't know who's crazier, the Vorruyters or my Imperial Brother. Golf clubs? What in the Hell are golf clubs? Some arcane weapons?” Barrayaran ambassador Prince Xav Vorbarra was definitely not in a good mood. “I've traveled all the way from Beta to Old Earth for a diplomatic conference and Dorca sends me a Winterfair shopping list?” Xav flung the offending list of authentic Old Earth gifts that he wanted Xav to acquire to favor some of the old-sticks on the Council of Counts with for Winterfair on Barrayar at his assistant. “This is what happens when we don't have an embassy or consulate here on Old Earth. ...Shopping!”

Lt. Vorchristos picked up the flimsy, “Your bother says in the preface that being selected by the Emperor's own-brother will flatter the Counts.”

“...More-like demonstrate that I'm just his pack-mule. So... exactly what are 'golf clubs'? I know you read the cable straight out of the decoder, and being a good weasel you've already consulted the comsole database.”

“They're not weapons, my Prince. They're used in an ancient outdoor sport developed in Scotland during Earth's first industrial revolution. It became a popular sport amongst the English-speaking minorities planet-wide even before they established Beta Colony, and before the Chaos Years.”

“One set for le Sanguinaire and another for his favorite grandson Piotr. No doubt Count Vorkosigan will be flattered. Does it involve horses?”

“No my Prince, it's pursued on-foot near the beach or through woodlands from what I can tell. Chasing a small white ball...”

“Sounds like a good walk spoiled. Does anyone still play this “golf”?”

“There are still a number of locations in the suburbs here in London, north in the ancestral Scottish lands and in Australia and Asia. It's still popular among some of the Earth elites, though it's never really spread to any of the Colony Worlds with any serious popularity. 

“Scotland? That explains the connection. Just before I left the capital, that mad loon Pierre Vorruyter got a hold of some Earth histories looking for the Firsters' connections to Earth and decided the Vorruyters were descended from the Scots.


End file.
